


Twenty Years On

by CiCiIvory



Series: Velvet Pair Week 2018 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Day Two, F/M, New Year's story, Velvet Pair Week 2018, bittersweet shit, nobody is happy i'm sure., past / nostalgia, potential one-sided love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:45:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CiCiIvory/pseuds/CiCiIvory
Summary: He still wonders about that night, twenty years ago. He's too afraid to ask. To know. [Day 2 of Velvet Pair Week]





	Twenty Years On

**Author's Note:**

> The story is hell because I was in hell trying to finish it.
> 
> I was
> 
> 1) Sick as a fucking dog and on bed rest.  
> 2) Trying to study for the LSAT. Sick.
> 
> It's not fun.
> 
> Mild sexual references but not bad enough it would be a higher rating than T imo.

_January 1 st, 2013_

 

On the streets of Bratislava, the sounds of _rehtacka_ echoed in the streets as people welcomed in the New Year. Watching the commotion from the deck overlooking the street, the shirtless man held his breath and counted back from ten once again, as he had done moments previous.

 

The phone rang, right as he reached one (predictable). He reached out for it. “Hello, doll,” he coolly said, resting the phone between his ear and shoulder as he reached for a pack of cigarettes, tapping the small carton against the table as he took a seat.

 

**x x x**

 

_December 31 st, 1992_

 

So, to be fair, the nineties were not kind to anyone, but this, Ondrej decided, was the cruelest. In less than twenty-four hours, they would no longer be Czechoslovakia. They would split – one would be the Czech Republic and the other would be Slovakia.

 

Gently kicking him in the shins, she pointed at the cigarette in his hand. “Stop that shit,” she hissed, but made no real effort to make him stop. He had picked up this habit in 1937, and had no intention of stopping any time soon. They watched the people in the bar chatter and enjoy their time celebrating the end of the year. Tereza huffed, bringing her beer to her lips as he puffed away.

 

“You’re in a sour fuckin’ mood.”

 

“Aren’t you? Or are you finally glad to get rid of me?”

 

Ondrej made a face at her as she refused to look at him. Sure, she had been bossy and controlling, and maybe he was scatterbrained and sloppy, but they were still in this together – for at least a few more hours.

 

“Rezie, I’m…” He knew that there hadn’t been so much as a big blow-up fight, luckily, compared to some other places like those friends of theirs who had made up Yugoslavia, but it still was rocky. He was torn, mostly because he knew his people were torn.

 

Or maybe, looking at how beautiful she was under the shit bar lighting, he was torn because he knew he still loved her. He had loved her for damn near eighty years. He didn’t love the country – he loved the young woman who had been by his side for years and supported him. He inhaled and coughed, earning a “are you fucking kidding me” look from Tereza as he jabbed his cigarette into the ash tray.

 

“You going to church tomorrow?” she asked, deciding to pass up the chance to tell him _I told you so you dolt._ He shrugged his shoulders.

 

“Maybe, if you’ll join me.”

 

“I don’t think I can,” she mumbled. “Besides, I… tomorrow… in a few hours…”

 

He checked his watch and sighed, grabbing the beer and chugging it. “One more round and then let’s go. I don’t want to be out long, anyway,” he whispered. She nodded, following suit and watching him wave over the waitress, ordering two more drinks for them.

 

Ondrej eyed Tereza as he brought the bottle to his mouth. He was going to make the most of these last few hours.

 

**x x x**

 

It ended up being a long night.

 

Ondrej found himself pressed up against the wall of the small cottage that Tereza owned in the small town they were in, the dim lights illuminating the soft features of Tereza’s face as she leaned in closer, digging her nails into the soft fabric of his shirt. He inhaled the scent of rosewater perfume and cheap beer, pulling her instinctively closer as she pulled him down closer to her.

 

“I don’t want this to end.”

 

“It doesn’t have to, Rezie,” he whispered. She tried quickly remove the belt he had on. “Tereza.”

 

“No. I know this is for the best. But, I can’t… and I won’t…” She paused. He reached up, loosening the bun in her hair as she bit her lip. “I can’t go back to what we had. For the sake of Czechia.”

 

“But what about for Tereza?”

 

“It doesn’t work like that.”

 

Ondrej pulled away, leaning back against the wall as he glared down at her. “It does. I love you, Tereza.”

 

“I know, but for now, we can’t… be a couple. It’ll be too soon.” Inhaling sharply, she stepped closer. “But it’s still 1992. I still am yours. At least for another two hours.”

 

Ondrej didn’t want to argue. He probably could have for hours, but he knew that Tereza was stubborn and he knew, deep down, she was right. Tereza always needed time, regardless of how she presented herself. She was mourning, probably more than he was. He shrugged his shoulders, pulling his shirt up from over his head as she unzipped her jacket.

 

“I’ll still love you into ninety-three, Rezie.”

 

“I wish I can say the same.”

 

She nodded, pulling him in for a kiss, quickly tangling her fingers into his hair. He was quick to lift her up, something he could do with ease because he practiced for decades, and he allowed himself to be caught up in the moment.

 

She was still his Tereza, and would be until morning. For him that’s all he could ask for.

 

**x x x**

 

_January 1 st, 2013_

“ _Happy New Year, Ondra.”_

He inhaled sharply and leaned back in his seat. “Happy New Year, Rezie. What’s up?”

 

“ _The usual. I slept through the countdown, and woke up_ to remember that it’s been… _”_ She paused. “ _I miss you.”_

 

“We’ll see each other soon,” he whispered as he shivered. The fireworks illuminated his porch and the street below. Ondrej’s fingers twitched as he opened the pack of cigarettes and shakily lit one. “You watching any fireworks?”

 

 _“No, I’ll go… back to bed… I just wanted to call and wish you your first happy new year.”_ Ondrej chuckled and rolled his eyes. _“Goodnight_.”

 

**x x x**

 

 

_January 1 st, 1993_

Ondrej awoke at seven in the morning, his clothes neatly placed on the chair, and his stomach twisted into knots when he realized the bedroom was empty. On the pillow next to him was no note, and the vanity did not even have a letter. He remembered how they wasted no time getting lost in each other, with her finally mumbling phrases of love and adoration for him before he drifted off.

 

He dressed and found the phone, calling the Prague number he had memorized. She didn’t answer, so he left a message. He went back to Bratislava, where he was greeted as his own person, left another message for her, and still received no reply at the celebratory dinner in his house.

 

By ten, the only message he had on his answering machine was a quick, “ _I’m sorry_.” And she gave him nothing else.

 

He didn’t want to call back. It would make him feel like shit.

 

**x x x**

 

_January 1 st, 2013_

 

 

“Rezie?”

 

He heard Tereza shift over the line, a quiet hum escaping her lips. _“Yes, Ondrej?”_ she replied quickly, suddenly intrigued by what he was going to say. This was how most of the New Year’s phone calls went. They made mindless, idle chatter, until Ondrej jumped in. He always told himself every year, for eleven months, this would be the year he asked her about what happened in 1993. If she meant that she loved him, or if she meant that she was sorry that she lied about her love. He wanted to ask why she left with no word and why she could only give him two after he spent a whole day trying to call her.

 

He inhaled.

 

“Happy New Year’s again.”

 

Twenty years on, he still couldn’t bring himself to learn the truth. He heard her sigh.

 

“ _Thank you_.”

 

And the call went dead.


End file.
